Page 80 of The Sugar Maple Inn

Reese sat up in one quick motion. Grace yelped as he grabbed her waist, flipped their positions, pinning her to the floor.

“All right, that’s enough,” he said. “Time I got a turn.”

Grace looked up at him, flushed and startled and so beautiful it hurt.

“That’s cheating,” she said breathlessly.

“Hey, you said it. We’re just winging the rules now, remember?” Reese grabbed a handful of Monopoly money. Let it flutter down onto her chest. Her stomach. “Now I’m buying you.”

He pulled her dress over her head. More Monopoly money scattered across her skin. Grace lay there in just her underwear, breathing hard, eyes heavy with want.

“Regent Street,” Reese said, placing a house on her collarbone. “Oxford Street.” Another on her sternum. “Bond Street.” One more, just above her nipple. “I’m building a monopoly.”

“Just another day for you,” Grace breathed, squirming under him.

“Sure it is.” He set a hotel between her breasts. “See? Full set.”

Her nipples were hard. Peaked. Perfect. Reese placed Chance cards on each one, watching Grace’s breathing hitch.

“Cold?” he asked.

“Frustrated.”

“Good.” He kissed her, deep and thorough. Then he pulled back. “Now you know how I felt.”

Grace glared at him. Then she reached over and grabbed a card, placing it against the hardest part of him. “Go To Jail.”

Reese shoved it away, slipped a condom on and pulled her underwear to the side, settling between her thighs. He looked down at her, spread out beneath him. Long legs, small breasts with peaked nipples, the slight curve of her hips, pink-blond hair tangled around her face. Her skin was pale, unmarked except for a small scar on her knee. No tan lines. No artifice. Just Grace, uninhibited and real.

“I’m already in prison.”

Then he thrust into her, Monopoly pieces and money scattering everywhere.

Thirty

Grace

Grace lay in bed with Reese an hour later, watching him stare out at the foggy moonlit treetops like they held the secrets of the universe.

“Is it just me,” he whispered against her skin, “or is that fog starting to lift?”

“It is,” Grace said, “and I’m thinking that we should probably talk about what happens next.”

Reese’s expression did that thing where it shuttered. Like someone had pulled down blinds behind his eyes. “We could do that.”

“Or?”

“Or we could enjoy the fog while it’s still here.” He pressed the length of his body against her. “Deal with reality later.”

“Reality,” Grace said with a sigh. “Ergh.”

“I just realized something. I don’t know where you live. In town, I assume?”

Grace stiffened slightly against him. “Above the café. Small flat. Two bedrooms, one bathroom.”

“How long have you been there?”

“Since Zach’s idiot of a dad left. I couldn’t afford the house we’d been renting without his wages. So Mom offered me the flat above Blossoms & Brew. Was supposed to be temporary but it’s been twelve years and counting.”